


Out

by PencilWolf15



Series: Eddsworld - Cracked Mirrors [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Just lots of Angst, i think this is almost pure angst, yeah pretty much pure angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilWolf15/pseuds/PencilWolf15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rejects from Reject Room #64 escape, but now what? Not-Funny Tom has an identity crisis and totally breaks down. Prequel to As Fate Would Have It</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out

It has been...who knows how long. Who knew, who even cared. Time was something you all had little to no concept of, having never seen a clock or the sun. It could’ve been a day, it could’ve been a decade, it didn’t matter; any time spent in this sterile, white hell was far too long.

The sign above your heads read “Reject Room #64;” that, and the multiple screams you heard echoing throughout wherever you were told you that you were not alone...not the only screw-ups of this madman’s insane experiments. Who knew how long it would be until the screams-then-silence grew closer and closer to your location; until it was yours and your family’s turn to face the Reaper.

No

Not us

We just arrived here, we don’t want to leave just yet. We don’t want to die.

 _I_ don’t want to die.

The plan was set. Every room had a way in and out, else they all would have suffocated, and the food portions nonexistent. There was more than one room, so there were hallways, and where there are hallways, there are doors, and where there are doors, there’s a way out.

A way out. Sounds simple. Too simple. Like this is the same as walking out the front door to play with the neighborhood kids. Those memories aren’t yours, you never had a childhood. Who knows if they even correctly say what it’s like out there, you’ve had little reason to trust your sources anyways. But it doesn’t matter, all hope hinged on escaping this pearly cage.

The littlest one lay his head on your lap, snoozing away at the thought of a brighter tomorrow. You pat his soft hair absentmindedly; before we sleep again, we will be out of this place.

We will be out of this place...

Those were your thoughts your last sleep time. That was when it was white and full of fear of the future. You did it, all of your family did it. You gathered up everyone in that room and made a break for it, the little one in your arms. Ran out and away, out into the sky shower with the angry grey ceiling. Ran out and away until you felt your legs could fall off (and judging by the sluggish movements of the others, theirs felt the same). Ran and ran until you couldn’t anymore, then ducked into the next empty room you could see. It was tall and dark even against the dark ceiling of the outside. No other people in there either, just lots and lots of bugs. Bugs and soft objects that smelled bad. But it was dry, it was away…

It was OUT.

Out... _out_

All of them, yourself included, were panting heavily. The tall, orange-haired one missing an eye, the square-chinned one lacking eyes entirely (exactly the same as…), the small one whose dimensions didn’t quite fit, the one with the face of an existential crisis, and you. You. You who were so close to what you were created to be but had just missed the mark. You, who failed the one thing that was supposed to be hardwired into you. You, the thing that--

**BOOM**

The loud, unfamiliar sound makes all of you jump and huddle closer together, holding onto one another for comfort and strength. You all wait... The shower continued to pour down out there, and there were no signs of unfriendlies closing in. You relax, the death grip on each other loosens; this is normal. Just another one of these outside things.

You breath to slow your racing heart, this pause giving your thoughts the ok to run savage. Your breath hitches before you can stop it.

“Is fUnNY ToM Ok?” the little one’s voice is small and broken, dripping with sincerity.

Your emotions are catching up to you, “D-don’t call me that,” you shield your lack of eyes with a hand, hoping not to appear weak.

“Tom--” Someone begins to say, but something inside you snaps.

“THAT IS NOT MY NAME!!” You are suddenly looking down at the huddled group. You do not remember jumping up, “I...I,” large, ugly tears are now streaming down your face, “I can’t be Tom, I can’t be a Tom. I-I failed at b-being a T-Tom, that’s why I was sent to 64,” Your head is swirling with so much emotion it hurts. You clutch your head, spiked hair being flattened. You could care less. Your knees are in danger of giving out under you.

“We all failed. You know this,” Your head is buzzing so loudly you can’t discern whose voice it is

“You’re all different,” your mouth is now moving on it’s own volition. You have no strength to stop it, “You all deviate drastically from the molds. You’re all so different it doesn’t matter if you missed your mark! Look at you! And you!” you point to the orange haired and square chinned ones, “You’re a mash of more than one! A total mess! You look like someone took random body parts, mashed them up in a blender, and tried to sew them back together! Not to mention your mental states! Beings who fight within their own selves, who talk with voices straight out of a nightmare! No one would be proud of creating something like you! And you!” Your accusing finger now rests in front of the detailed one, “I can’t stare at you for too long before my mind begins to hurt and I want to vomit! Exactly what part of those four are you from?? How do you work?! How are your dimensions so exaggerated?! You can’t be real! You-you can’t possibly exist!” Only one is left free of your scolding, “And you!” And him what? Him and his atrophied anatomy? Him and his disconnect with where he ends and where he begins again? No. The words die in your throat, the poor thing’s crying already. Your finger shakes and falls back down to your side, but the accusations go on.

“And then there’s me, every physical detail in place. I have his face, his voice,” you look down at your hands, the same ones someone out there named Tom has. You clench them, ”but I failed in the end. I was SO CLOSE but I tripped and fell and was cast aside for it!” You are screaming at the ceiling, another loud outside **BOOM** screaming with you, “You freaks can wallow in the thoughts that you were so off base that it’s not worth thinking about, while me! I! I have to live with the thought that maybe if I had just kept my mouth closed I would’ve been counted as a success. But no! I had to go and display what makes me SO APPARENTLY WRONG as to be thrown aside as rubbish!” The emotions get too much, and you can’t continue standing. You fall to your hands and knees, ash-brown hair obscuring your vision. The anger continues

You grab the long locks and tug, “This isn’t my hair, I HATE this hair!” Your scalp erupts in pain. You ignore it; you don’t care. Attempts to stand are made again. The navy sleeves of your jacket catch your eye, “I hate blue! I hate hoodies!” Grabbing and clawing at every stitch, you tear the hoodie off you and toss it far. You remember checkers, “I hate these shoes!” You tear off the checkered sneakers and toss each far from one another. Panting for a beat, you fall back to your knees, eyes leaking as much water as the sky outside, “I hate that I can’t pass as normal with these blasted eyes,” You’re now left with weakly clawing at the voids on your face, “I hate that there’s nothing for us out here. Where can we go? Where will we live? Where will we get food? Are we wanted? Do we need to avoid detection? Wh-what kind of life is this, one that’s no better than that prison we were in? Hell, it’s most likely worse. We-we’re going to die, and no one will help us. No one cares,”

The chill of the rotting room finally hits you; maybe throwing off your sweater wasn’t the best idea. It doesn’t matter anyways, you’re all cold; cold and wet. Maybe this will be the place you all die, with clothes scattered across the room. You relax down on your haunches and your head falls and your gaze is down on the floor. You close your eyes, your face scrunching from the emotion.

There are sounds of shuffling; your family’s doing something. Are they walking away? Are they moving to comfort you? You don’t know and your miserable self could care less at the moment. Something soft drops onto your shoulders, something soft and mint green. It startles you a bit. You pick up a part of it and examine it; it’s a coat, and it’s still warm. You turn around to see the detailed one pulling the violet hood up over his head. He’s the only one you can see. You scan the area behind you, the others have gone. You turn your gaze back around; probably for the best anyway--

Something thick and smelly drops on your back, as well as several warm arms wrap around you. You look around, a large and dirty green blanket encompasses you, the orange haired one, and the square chinned one, who have come up and leaned against you. (the detailed one simply grabs a corner and leans against the mass) A quick gaze down shows the little one has laid his head in your lap, and you feel yourself absentmindedly begin to stroke his hair. Tears are still bubbling from your eyes.

“But I--”

“Shut up,” the square-chinned one snaps, stopping you in your tracks, “Just shut up with all that. I know the memories aren’t mine; uh, ours, or whatever; but I remember learning in primary school that generally things that want to survive, will. Things that want to live and learn and whatever, will find a way, ok? So shut up about all that negative bull, yeah? We are all going to live; we all have the determination to,”

They all stare at you with the same look, the we-can-do-it-so-shut-up look. You can’t find any words to say, so you don’t. The little one is already asleep on your lap, grasping at a coat sleeve like a child with a teddy bear. You still have tears to shed, so you let them roll out.

Time passes, the shower stops, and it’s quiet outside. You look around yourself; once again you’re the only one awake. You crack a small grin only you know about, and lean into the combined warmth of your family. You close your tear encrusted eyes, or lack thereof; not that that fact matters anyways. All that matters is that you’re all going to live, together. Food will be hard to come by, not to mention the rules of this Outside, but we’ll live. You know you will

_I_ know we will. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my headcannon with how the Rejects escaped the lab, and what happened right after. I also wanted to put Film Buff Tom through the feels wringer, cuz I'm evil like that.
> 
> The way some things are described are how I see the rejects seeing the world. They haven't ever been outside, and would probably not have a concrete way of describing some things. Hope I made things clear enough, though


End file.
